by A. L. Mengel
He remembered sitting in his car, the engine and lights cut off, the windshield just beginning to show signs of steaming up from the deep humid air. He recalled looking through that windshield and seeing a tall, quite attractive man standing down the sidewalk against the park hedges. He had long brown hair. He remembered.
It was slowly coming back to him, like a drunk’s memory returning after a night of heavy drinking. Yes, the man was tall. He was wearing heavy clothes that seemed rather out of place for the warmth and humidity of Miami Beach in the summertime.
But he was drawn to man’s eyes.
His aura. His attraction.
Yes, he remembered that much.
This mysterious man had given him a wane smile, made eye contact, and then Jean Carlo’s mind drew a blank. He just plain and simply could not remember what happened after his car door opened.
And here he was.
Was that the sick fuck who locked him up in some sort of chest inside his house? Deep in the basement?
But then Jean Carlo was startled as the entire box he was in shook and there was a crash to his right, like someone took an axe to it. A small slit of light crept in, and he saw just a bit of the ivory interior.
Wait a minute.
What the fuck did this sick fuck put me in?
And for a moment, he was blinded. The darkness was chased away by the bright afternoon sunlight, reaching in with a vengeance, and as his eyes adjusted to the new light, he saw standing above him the silhouette of a long-haired man who did not speak…
*~*~*
Jean Carlo had forgotten where he was. And as he came to, he remembered. Looking around the small stone room, he saw the visitor, still speaking, seemingly unaware of his mental exit.
“…You sounded so distant before that I thought it would be prudent to bring this to you, Uriel.” He gestured to the obituary, which Jean Carlo had set down on a table across from the bed.
Jean Carlo stopped for a moment, shaken out of his dream. “What did you say? Uriel? Is that your name?” he asked.
“No, I called you Uriel. My name is Jonas Mayer.”
“Why did you call me that?”
The visitor entered and sat down on the bed, in the middle of a pile of bedclothes. After a few minutes had passed, he looked up at Jean Carlo and spoke softly, so softly that Jean Carlo had to strain to hear him.
“That is your name, dear sir.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As Sheldon’s small, four-cylinder Escort puttered down Andelusia Avenue, he was too engrossed in Antoine’s file to notice Anthony’s car – which was parked just merely across the street from Antoine’s house, or Paula’s car, which was parked a block away. He was driving, but his head was moving back and forth, alternating between looking through the windshield at the road and thumbing through Antoine’s file, which currently was a mess of papers bound by a manila file on the passenger seat.
Sheldon was excited about all of the information he had gotten about Antoine’s history, his mortal life, his transformation, and his life as an immortal. He had to rush back to the office and enter all of the information into the database!
Speeding down Andelusia, he finally came to US1, just making the light and squealing the tires, headed north to Coral Way to the office. It did not take long to get there. He darted into the garage, zipping into his parking space so fast that he parked his car on a slant straddling two spaces. He did not care. It was late. He heaved his plump, round body out of the small car, grabbing the file and all its contents as he did so.
He rushed into the office, slamming the door behind him. He sat at his mammoth desk, he dumped the entire contents of the file out on the surface. Immediately reaching for the discs, he put one in the player:
“So why are you here? You want to know how I got to be in this position? Oh, what time is it? Yes…I suppose I could tell you a little of how I came to be, how I came to exist. But, first I have a question for you. Yes, take a sip of the brandy.”
That was nonsense. He pushed fast forward, and the usual squeaks and chipmunk-style voices emanated from the recorder. Antoine was very hospitable, but he didn’t really care about pleasantries. He needed to find Darius. There was something about Darius! The recording continued.
“I opened my eyes, and looked down. The tree tops were below me, and I could see the bridge and the brook where he came upon me, I saw the path where I saw the red eyes, where I was running from the sounds and the eyes which I could not determine where they were. And then I could see the roof of the café, and it got smaller and smaller and began to look miniscule.”
There was a piece of it. The Day of Transformation.
Darius.
And Darius was the one who Antoine had unearthed. And, according to Antoine, he unearthed him just recently. Why would he unearth the immortal he killed so many years ago?
There was a knock on the door.
The door opened by itself before Sheldon had a chance to answer it. Standing in the doorway was the silhouette of a man; light emanated from the background, as if some strange glowing entity were behind him. Sheldon sat frozen at his desk, his right index finger holding the pause button.
He held his gaze towards the door. “Anthony?” he asked, inquisitively. “What are you doing here so late?”
But the dark figure did not respond.
It moved closer.
Sheldon sat in disbelief as he watched the shadowy figure glide into his office, but did not move. He couldn’t. He was like petrified wood. And he felt beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. Even all the whiskey did nothing to calm him.
Something told him that the figure was not Anthony.
Still in the shadows, the figure was now much closer, hovering over the desk. Sheldon debated on whether to reach to his brass lamp on the edge of the desk – which would put an end to the mystery – or sit back in his chair.
Sheldon finally mustered enough courage to speak. “Who…who are you?”
The figure came closer, and Sheldon could finally make out a face. Long, brown hair, framing a pale white face. Could it be?
“Darius?”
“Yes,” he finally spoke. “I am Darius.”
Sheldon sat back in his chair, smiled and chuckled softly. “Wow, it’s so great to finally meet you!” For the moment, his curiosity was peaked. Questions started running through his mind – why did Darius come here? What would he want with me? How did he even know about me? And then Sheldon stopped for a moment.
Antoine.
That’s the only way that Darius could know about me, Sheldon thought to himself. But his curiosity took the best of him. His obsession started to take center stage, leaving regards to his safety to the wind.
“Do you mind?” Sheldon leaned forward in his chair and opened his drawer. He fumbled with un-wrapping a couple of new audio discs. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Darius lunged forward until he was at the edge of the desk, and he slammed his fist down on the desk. “I am not Antoine!” he insisted. “I am not here to tell a story!”
Sheldon froze, his mouth hanging wide open.
Thoughts entered his mind about his safety. He looked Darius in the eyes. They were yellow and intense. Sheldon gingerly placed the discs back and closed the drawer slowly so it wouldn’t make a noise.
“I know what you are running,” Darius said with a harsh tone in his voice. “I know what you are forming.”
“What are you talking about?” Sheldon asked.
He lunged forward again, jumping onto the desk and grabbing Sheldon by his collar and pulling him forward until Sheldon could feel Darius’s hot breath.
“Don’t even try it!” Darius exclaimed, with laughter. “I am keeping my cool here. I am letting you live. But I know what this ‘society’ is all about…” He gestured wildly around the room with his free arm to accentuate what he was saying. He pulled Sheldon closer to his face until Sheldon was lifted up from the chair. “You have
something of mine.”
And then he dropped Sheldon back in the chair, and the chair leaned back so far that it fell over backwards, and Sheldon crashed on the floor.
Darius laughed, throwing his head back at the sight, and jumped down from the desk and instinctively brushed his legs off. “You are such a fat fucking drunk slob,” he said, shaking his head at the comment. “Imagine…a fuck up like you! Organizing the fucking resistance!”
Darius started pacing. Sheldon got up, corrected the chair, and stood behind his desk, saying nothing.
“I’m sure you would like to go home, wouldn’t you?” Darius asked, stopping his pacing and glaring right at Sheldon.
He did not respond.
“…yes, home in your bed, sleep off the booze, maybe jack off to some internet porn and pass out until noon tomorrow…that’s what you would like to do, I’m sure. But no.” Darius came close to Sheldon again, but did not touch him.
“You’re not going home yet,” Darius said. He calmed and softened his voice. “You don’t want to see me angry, dear sir. But I came here because you have something of mine. Antoine may tell the world about his story – but I am different. So I doubt you may have heard. Antoine and I are two very different creatures. But I might as well tell you. I have created a son. One who I want to mold into my successor. But he has given me trouble. I don’t hold him accountable for it – yet. But I hold you accountable for it, dear sir.”
Darius put his arm around Sheldon and ushered him towards the door.
“So now, you need to come and take me to him. I know he came here. And I know you are holding him. I see a lot, dear sir. I know a lot as well. I have the power of knowledge. That is my weapon. But don’t mistake.” Darius squeezed Sheldon closer. “I will rip your fucking heart out and eat it in front of your fucking face if you don’t take me to him.”
Sheldon stopped breathing for a moment. He held the air in, desperately running methods of escape through his mind, and stopped. This was silly. He was supposed to be leading a spiritual revolution and here he was…standing before the enemy acting like a fool. A schoolboy. A coward.
So he cleared his throat, preparing to speak.
“Darius,” he began, “There is nothing here. You are mistaken. We are a simple group of people that investigates demons, the paranormal…vampires. We call ourselves The Astral. We truly mean no harm to you. We want to help you. That is our goal!”
“Simple fool!” Darius screamed as he lunged forward and grabbed Sheldon’s shoulders. He slammed him against the wall so hard that plaster fell. “Do not lie to me! If you don’t reveal where he is I will kill you! I will take you and bury you in my grave!”
Sheldon nodded and raised his hand to his lip as his mouth started oozing bright red blood. He ran his hands through his wisps of hair, pulling bits of plaster and dust out. He did not know what to say to Darius. Darius knew that he was lying, he knew that Jean Carlo had come here, but he didn’t seem to know about the Catacombs.
Good.
Darius’ emotions were running too high to be lying himself. Given the display, Sheldon could tell that Darius was truly frustrated.
“This is a waste of my time,” he finally said. He stepped closer to where Sheldon was laying on the floor, in the pile of broken plaster. “Stupid, silly old man. You think that I won’t find your secret little society. I will. And I did. Trust me. I have more power on my side than you can imagine. You will see. Asmodai will come, and he will find all he needs to find. It’s not much longer now. Just wait and see. Consider it a warning.”
With those words, he exited the room so fast, with a giant burst of wind and bright light like an explosion. And when the air cleared, Sheldon saw a gaping hole where the door to his office used to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Thank you Sir,” Antoine said, looking Frank Magellan in the eye seductively, as he gently took the ball-point pen from the business magnate’s white liver spotted hand. “You have invested in what will be the new wave of a lifetime,” he continued. He placed down the contract on a pile of contracts at the head of the conference table. Darius brought another pile of contracts and handed them to Antoine, who in turn placed them in the pile as well.
A few investors cleared their throats, while others took a sip at their water. Antoine and Darius made eye contact and smiled discreetly and knowingly. Everyone was on board.
“Your return on your investment will be substantial and immediate,” Antoine stated. He stood proudly at the head of the conference table. “I promise all of you, you will all be very wealthy. Investing in a…a project of this nature will ensure your financial security.”
He placed his hands down on the table and looked everyone in the eyes directly. “You will all be my closest advisors. I will do nothing without you.”
Once the meeting adjourned, the members rose from the conference table and began to herd towards the doors. There were twelve investors – and Antoine hand selected them. All of them were wealthy, powerful business moguls and all have the capital to expand Sacrafice to worldwide levels.
The investors saw a business proposal that was well crafted, exquisitely written and expertly presented. Antoine and Darius each possessed the gift of persuasion that was needed to capture the commitment of each investor.
And each investor signed with minimal resistance.
Once the presentation concluded, Antoine and Darius walked around the table to each investor and answered specific questions – but of course giving answers that seemed, at first, as specific and detailed, however when re-examined were actually quite broad and overly general.
But that was the gift of persuasion that each immortal possessed. It did not take much effort at all to convince the twelve fiscal geniuses to agree to support Asmodai as a demonic legion and sell their souls, damning themselves to Hell, while pouring out mountains of financial support.
“Imagine a corporation that requires a substantial initial investment,” Darius had offered during the presentation. “But the return would be…astronomical. Limitless.” He stood at the head of the table, and spoke directly to the investors, making direct eye contact. “Of course there are elements of risk involved. But then there is with just about every business deal, isn’t there?”
Some of the investors nodded in agreement.
“What I can guarantee you,” Darius continued, “is that your return will be substantial. VERY substantial. And you will be taken care of for the rest of your lives.”
Darius walked to the door and stood before it, and quickly turned back around to face the investors. Some had swiveled in their chairs to face Darius.
“This will be the last business deal that you ever need to make,” Darius said as he swiftly disappeared through the double doors.
*~*~*
Roberto was listening in on the meeting of the investors through the doors. He was startled somewhat when Darius passed through the doors.
“Come with me, Roberto,” Darius commanded, forcefully grabbing his forearm, pulling Roberto behind while he drifted down the hallway. Darius seemed frustrated, and was moving quickly across the wooden floor, past photos of various famous figures.
Roberto had to break into a run to keep from falling down as Darius dragged him with a vice-like grip. The hallway full of pictures seemed to stretch endlessly, and it was by far much longer than Roberto had ever remembered it.
Looking before him, he saw the back of Darius’ coat, flapping in the wind that seemed to appear out of nowhere as if the two were traveling through a wind tunnel set at a high velocity.
Darius called back to Roberto over the roar of the wind. “I know you have this infatuation with Antoine. But you have no business eavesdropping. These matters do not concern you.”
Roberto did not understand why Darius would be upset at Roberto overhearing what seemed to be essentially a typical investors meeting. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to Roberto about that. But his afternoon in the bowels of Sacrafice def
initely resided in the back of his mind. He certainly did not forget that.
Still running in the seemingly endless hallway, Roberto started to resist. He started to pull his arm back towards his chest, trying to stop Darius, but there was no use. Each time he pulled his arm, Darius tightened his grip.
The hallway began to change around them as they ventured further and further away from the conference room. To Roberto, it seemed that they were miles away from the doors to the conference room, it seemed that they must have gone underground at some point, for it felt that they must be on the other side of the city.
But when Roberto looked back, they seemed to be just a few yards from the conference door. But they continued moving, and the hallway started to darken. The white, plaster walls gradually crumbled away to reveal darkness and green – like the earthy, mossy walls that Roberto remembered before. The floor was no longer wooden and hard – it gradually softened under their running feet.
And the conference room doors were still visible as Roberto looked back again, but now much smaller and farther away. But this time, when he looked back, he felt as if he was peering through a window, like he was looking at the wood and plaster hallway from the outside looking in. Or as if he were watching the hallway on television.
And then Darius stopped.
They stopped and the hallway suddenly grew pitch black. It was so dark that Roberto could not even see Darius in front of him. A torch ignited on the wall next to them, as if on cue.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the flame, Roberto scanned his surroundings. They were definitely in what seemed like a mossy cave. The walls and floor were made of dirt and earth, and there were roots hanging from the ceiling and jutting out of the walls.
But when Roberto turned around to look behind him, he saw what made the pit of his stomach knot up like he just got punched in the gut.
There was just a wall behind them. Moss, dirt and roots.
No conference room here.
